|Just to remind you that The Sea Garden will be out soon. Here we see the tide creeping in towards the saltings as a crow flaps past, wings almost brushing the mud.|
Another Friday and practically nothing to talk about. As I have hinted, Marcia has started on the new book. Now it is definitely 'head down' and so we do nothing unless she suddenly realises that she needs to visit somewhere where she feels her characters are headed.
One of the worries that Marcia had has gone: would she be happy writing here, up in the trees? Well, the answer is a resounding 'yes' and now we are settling down into the old familiar pattern – even if it is about six weeks later than it usually starts (blame the move or the weather). Up, dress and breakfast (or, sometimes, breakfast and dress) then she disappears into the sitting room, settles down beside the sliding door onto the balcony, fires up her laptop and away she goes. Meanwhile I retire to my study (now downstairs) and get on until I here a plaintive cry which indicates that the time has come for a caffeine rush which, of course, means some coffee. That may well be followed by some chocolate to keep the energy levels up a bit (and if you follow me on Twitter I am sure you know what follows that).
Lunch follows when Marcia has finished writing for the day and may be anywhere between one and three – and it may be at home (plan A) or at the pub (plan B). Since she really settled down to the hard graft of taking a book out of her head and getting it into the computer, plan B happens less often. If she has failed to appear by one, I start work on Plan A (which means I will wander down into the village, buy some bits and bobs and will be on standby to cook when required). It is very different from before when the distance to the shops was such that we had to plan things ahead for days and days. I must say I really enjoy the spontaneity. Then, after washing up and if the weather is not too revolting, Marcia may well say, “Can we pop into X now?” or, as it may be, “Can we go up onto the moor to Y?”.
That has happened twice this week and so we have had afternoon tea in both the Two Bridges Hotel and the Moorland Hotel near Haytor. I suspect that both may well get a mention.
The problem this time is that the writing process is going to be interrupted by the various events that accompany publication day. The ones that have been agreed are listed at the top of the column to the right but I suspect there will be others so do keep an eye on the list.
Now, whatever am I going to write about next Friday? I really do not have a clue.
These guys are driving me gently mad. All I want is a decent picture that shows you the details of their colouring. To date I have failed miserably. The problem is that when they are outlined against the sky, they end up as silhouettes and could just as well have been cut out of cardboard.
|Perched on a television aerial as the sun sets, these two appear to be discussing the neighbours. 'You would never believe this, dear, but young Harold has started to fly out with that Chloe and we both know she's no better than she ought to be'.|
What is infuriating is that there was one playing around on some guttering – swinging upside down and then hauling himself (herself?) back up to peer (seemingly short sightedly) into the gutter, grab something which looked like moss and then started swinging again. The problem was that for once (and this is so rare) I just didn't have a camera with me. We shall have to see what happens next week.